


In Your Face, Mycroft!

by Princess of Power (Pulpbomb)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Lestrade is the shit, M/M, Mycroft is a shit, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content, Sherstrade, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pulpbomb/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Power
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt by ImpishTubist on tumblr:</p><p>"I need fic where Mycroft tries to charm Lestrade in his smarmy way and Lestrade is having none of his bullshit but that doesn’t deter Mycroft.</p><p>And later on Lestrade’s finally had enough and he’s like, “You know I’m fucking your brother, right?” and then just walks away with this smug grin on his face.</p><p>And Sherlock’s never been more turned on in his life."</p><p> </p><p>Initally posted on my tumblr. </p><p>Sharing here because apparently I am an attention whore who just shills her fic across the interwebs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImpishTubist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/gifts).



“Detective Inspector Lestrade, I understand you’re having a spot of bother regarding the Argentinian diplomat’s suicide.” Mycroft Holmes spoke as he walked into Lestrade’s office without knocking, closing the door behind him with his ever present umbrella.

“Mycroft, please come in,” he replied, sarcastically. ‘Wonderful, two Holmes brothers breathing down my neck.’ Sherlock was insistent that it wasn’t a suicide and wouldn’t leave Lestrade alone, even taken to phoning when he was adamant that he loathed that form of contact.

“Thank you,” Mycroft said smoothly, sitting in the chair in front of Lestrade’s desk. 

“We haven’t ruled the death a suicide yet, Forensics is still processing the evidence from the scene. Sherlock is down there badgering them now.” Lestrade scrubbed a hand over his face before sitting back in his chair and regarding the elder Holmes’ brother.

Mycroft grinned in way that always made the detective inspector slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, I’m aware. I’m here to inform you that it was a suicide and MI-5 agents will be here shortly to collect all your evidence and files regarding the matter.” He flicked a piece of invisible lint off his waistcoat.

“What? No, you can’t just take my case. We understand the sensitive nature of the case where a diplomat is involved and are taking measures to see that things are handled properly.” Lestrade sat up angrily.

The elder Holmes’ brother grinned again. “Be that as it may, MI-5 will be dealing with it from here on out.” He paused and cocked his head. “Honestly, Detective Inspector, I fail to understand why dealings between us must always be so strained. Our relationship could be so much more fruitful if you would just agree to cooperate with me.”

“Right, well I’ve seen where ‘cooperating’ gets you, so I’ll pass.” Lestrade retorted. He saw a familiar silhouette behind the frosted glass of his office door over Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Are you certain, Lestrade? There isn’t anything I could do for you that would change your mind?” Mycroft asked, silkily, leaning forward in his seat.

Lestrade stood and Mycroft followed suit. “No, there’s nothing.” He moved around his desk towards the door. The British Government laid a hand on his forearm, stopping him. He leaned in to whisper in the other man’s ear. “Nothing at all?”

The silver haired man calmly removed Mycroft’s hand from his arm as he reached for the doorknob.

“You are aware I’m fucking your brother, right?” He tossed over his shoulder as he opened the door and strode past a flushed Sherlock, who stiffened at being caught eavesdropping. The detective subtly (to some) adjusted his trousers before turning to smirk at his older brother. 

Alone in the DI’s office, Mycroft stood in shock watching Sherlock hurried to catch up with his lover down the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to let this go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Mycroft lovers. I love him too but he's a bit of shit in this fic.

For the next few weeks, Mycroft Holmes kept popping up out of the woodwork. It seemed like every time Lestrade turned around he found a note on his desk, a card in his pocket, or the man himself in his personal space.

Sherlock told him to ignore his brother but it was damned distracting. The man was simply refusing to take no for answer. Lestrade found it baffling. He didn’t think Mycroft had any actual interest in him, he figured the government official simply wanted to mess with his younger brother’s head and the idea of it drove Lestrade crazy. Couldn’t the stubborn git see he was happy with Sherlock? That they had something good going? Why would Mycroft strive to ruin that for Sherlock?

One day he snapped when he entered his office to find Mycroft sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Goddamnit! Why are you doing this? This is ridiculous. I don’t want to get a cup of coffee with you. I don’t want to have dinner with you and I certainly have no desire to sleep with you! So please… For the love of God, stop this nonsense, Mycroft. It’s cruel to Sherlock, what you are doing. Leave him alone.”

Mycroft looked up at the irate detective inspector. “This has nothing to do with my brother, Detective Inspector. I’m a direct man.” Lestrade snorted and rolled his eyes at that. “When I see someone I want, I go after it with single minded purpose.”

Lestrade stared at the other man, dumbfounded. 

Mycroft continued. “I’ve always been intrigued by you, Detective Inspector. Ever since your file first came across my desk when you found Sherlock in that flophouse. You are a very attractive man. I will admit that Sherlock’s continued association with you caught my attention. As you know, my brother is not a patient man and there are few people he finds tolerable. You, he has always respected and admired. I want you, Lestrade. And I mean to have you.”

Lestrade stepped back as the other man stood and glided out the door. He shook his head and sat at his desk.

He pulled out his mobile and sent a text to Sherlock.

**Your brother is going to be the death of me. - GL**

**What has the insufferable man done now? - SH**

**Nothing just keeps showing up like my goddamn shadow. - GL**

**Ignore him. I’ll speak to him if you like. - SH**

**No, no need. I’m sure he’ll get bored eventually. - GL**

**I doubt it. You are after all very good looking. Not to mention incredibly sexy. - SH**

Lestrade blushed at Sherlock’s last text. He would never get used to Sherlock being to open and sexual with him but he loved it. 

**Oh hush you. See you tonight. - GL**

**Until then. SH**

*** 

A month later, Mycroft’s interest had not yet waned. Lestrade would have been flattered if he weren’t so irritated by the other man’s constant attention in the form of flowers, gifts and visits. 

Up until this point, the government official had kept to bothering Lestrade solely at the Yard. Therefore he was very surprised to enter his flat after a long day to find Mycroft waiting in his sitting room with a cup of tea in his hand. 

Lestrade was already annoyed and frustrated. He was dealing with a difficult case and Sherlock had taken John to Wales for a private case earlier in the week. He’d been looking forward to a quick meal, a hot shower and going straight to bed. 

“What the bloody hell, Mycroft? Why are you here? How did you even get in?” Lestrade walked over and sat on the sofa across from his unapologetic intruder. The other man simply raised a brow at his questions. Lestrade shook his head and slumped back in his seat. “Fucking hell.” 

“There’s tea in the pot.” Mycroft said smoothly. 

“Thank you, you are the most considerate person to break into my flat this week.” Lestrade muttered, going into the kitchen and preparing himself tea. 

He returned to the sofa and sipped his tea, ignoring the other man. 

When both men finished their tea, Lestrade rose and gestured towards the door. “Please stop this, Mycroft. There is no point to it. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. Even if I weren’t happily involved with your brother, this would not be the way to gain my affection.” 

Mycroft stood and gathered his umbrella. He walked past Lestrade towards the door. 

“Pity that. I could make you very happy. If only my brother were capable of appreciating such blind devotion.” 

That did it. Lestrade twisted Mycroft’s arm painfully behind his back and slammed him into the wall by the door. 

“Listen to me, you smarmy little shit!” He hissed. The other man struggled against his grip and the DI torqued his arm until he stilled. 

"My loyalty is _not_ blind. I know exactly what your brother is capable of and I’m ‘devoted’ as you put it, not in spite of that but _because_ of it. Sherlock deserves better than you attempting to undermine his relationship with his lover at every turn. Now get the fuck out of my flat, you pompous bastard!” 

Lestrade released Mycroft and stepped away from the man. The elder Holmes straightened, adjusted his clothes and silently left the flat. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft witnesses something that makes him question the wisdom of his pursuit of Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's POV for what (I hope) are obvious reasons. 
> 
> Changed rating from T for this chapter. There is sex but it's not super explicit. I think M covers it.
> 
> Not beta'd or britpicked. All mistakes are mine. If you notice anything, feel free to comment!

The day after his visit to Lestrade’s flat found Mycroft in his office as usual. Anthea entered with a file he had requested. “Thank you, my dear. Please see that I am not disturbed for the next few hours. I have much to attend to.” Anthea nodded and glided out of the office closing the door behind her.

Mycroft placed the file to the side of his desk and opened his computer. He entered his security credentials and accessed the feed from the cameras he had surreptitiously placed throughout the Detective Inspector’s flat. He scanned the footage from the previous night after his departure. Mycroft watched Lestrade fiddle with his phone, ‘Probably texting Sherlock’, before rummaging about in his kitchen to prepare a simple meal. After Lestrade ate he went directly to the bathroom, where there were no cameras, apparently showering as he exited ten minutes later dressed in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. 

Mycroft swallowed drily. Lestrade dropped the towel giving the government official an eyeful, ‘Good Lord, the man is exquisite!’ 

The older man sauntered to his dresser, rummaging for a pair of pajama bottoms which he quickly pulled on and proceeded to go to bed. Mycroft hoped he might have left Lestrade in such an excited state that he would pleasure himself before falling asleep but Lestrade simply turned off the lamp by his bed and curled up under the covers. ‘Perhaps he took matters in hand in the shower. One can only hope,’ Mycroft mused.

He closed the footage and was quickly swept up in the usual routine of his work. Meetings with ambassadors, intelligence briefings and correspondence took up much of the rest of the day. Mycroft decided to spend the evening at his club in order to give the detective inspector a chance to cool off and hopefully consider Mycroft’s proposition.

The rest of the week continued in the same manner. In the mornings, Mycroft would review the footage from Lestrade’s flat the night before. It was obvious the inspector had a fairly simple routine in the evenings when work didn’t keep him too late. He would come home, change into comfortable clothing, eat takeaway or a sandwich before sitting for a bit in front of the television with a beer. He tended to nod off on the sofa before shuffling off to bed. Only one evening did Mycroft witness the man pleasuring himself. Mycroft watched this part avidly hoping Lestrade would give away his attraction for the government official but sadly it was Sherlock’s name on his lips as Lestrade brought himself to completion.

Mycroft had intended to visit Lestrade at the Yard or his flat on the following Friday but a small crisis in the Cote D’Ivoire required his full attention and he was forced to spend the entire weekend in the office, putting out fires thousands of miles away.

On the following Monday, Mycroft eagerly anticipated watching the footage from Lestrade’s flat. Perhaps how he spent his weekend would give Mycroft an indication as to how he should proceed in wooing the stubborn DI.

Once he was ensconced in his office with orders not to be disturbed until after lunch, Mycroft pulled up the camera feed on his laptop. Friday evening, Lestrade did not return home until very late, his demeanor and unsteadiness on his feet indicating a pub night with colleagues. That night the man changed quickly into sleep clothes and passed out on top of his covers.

Saturday saw Lestrade going to the shops for groceries and puttering around the flat. He hoovered the sitting room and cleaned all the dishes that had piled up in his sink. In the afternoon, he got himself a beer and sat on the sofa to watch a rugby match.

Mycroft fast forwarded through most of the match viewing, only pressing play when he saw Lestrade turn his head towards his front door. Sherlock strode in, having let himself in with a key. ‘Not picking locks anymore, brother mine?’ Mycroft watched jealously as Lestrade beamed at the tall man while he got up to greet him with a long hug and a lingering kiss.

“When did you get back? Solved the case, I’m sure.” Lestrade said, pulling back to give Sherlock room to remove his coat and scarf which the younger man carelessly tossed on an armchair.

“This morning. The case turned out to barely be a 5. It was tedious and time consuming and nowhere near as interesting as the client had intimated in his correspondence. I can’t believe I was in Wales for an entire week. John wouldn’t stop complaining the whole time. In the end, it was the client’s cousin who had stolen the heirloom, hoping to hock it to cover gambling debts. Boring.” Sherlock walked to the sofa and flounced lengthwise on it. Sherlock lifted his head and Lestrade slipped underneath the other man, immediately carding his fingers through curly hair with one hand and rubbing the detective’s temple with the other.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock melted into the touch. His brother’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed contentedly. The pair remained in this position for the rest of the rugby match, Lestrade glancing at the TV occasionally but mostly gazing down where Sherlock lay with his head in his lap.

Lestrade picked up the remote from the end table and turned off the TV. “Come on, let me give you a proper homecoming.” Sherlock stretched like a cat before getting to his feet and heading to Lestrade’s bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Mycroft paused the footage at this point. 

While he had no desire to witness his brother engaging in carnal acts, he most certainly did want to see Lestrade in such a position. This entire situation was a messy one where boundaries and emotions were concerned. Mycroft decided to watch what happened next while keeping his focus on Lestrade and ignoring his brother or perhaps even imagining himself in Sherlock’s place.

Pressing play, he watched Lestrade walk towards his bedroom, swiftly pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor of the hallway. Once in his bedroom, Lestrade paused in the doorway to look at his lover who lay sprawled naked on the bed. Mycroft found himself uncomfortable with the look on the Lestrade’s face. It was a look of such affection and lust that he began to question the wisdom in his pursuit of the detective inspector. 

He shook off the doubt and the footage continued to play.

Sherlock sat up and beckoned Lestrade closer as the DI took off his bottoms. Once the older man was standing next to the bed, Sherlock leaned over and buried his face in Lestrade’s stomach, wrapping his long arms around and holding him in place. Lestrade gazed down at Sherlock and rested his hands on the other man’s shoulders. After a moment, Sherlock let go to drag him down on the bed, straddling Lestrade’s hips.

“I missed you,” Lestrade said gruffly, reaching a hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. His brother leaned into the touch, “I missed you, too.” He leaned down to kiss Lestrade, a gentle embrace that quickly turned passionate. 

As Mycroft watched with growing sense of dread, his brother availed himself of the lube on the nightstand, slicking up his fingers which then disappeared beneath Lestrade. The camera angle didn’t provide an adequate view but Lestrade’s reaction made it clear Sherlock was working him open. He moaned Sherlock’s name and clutched at the bedsheets. 

After a few tortuous moments of watching Sherlock tend to Lestrade, his brother leaned back and slicked up his erection, Mycroft averting his gaze to avoid witnessing his brother handle himself. 

When he looked back at the screen, his brother had apparently entered Lestrade and was thrusting vigorously into the older man. The speakers filled with the sounds of the two men coming together, moaning and grunting, flesh slapping lewdly.

It was obviously an intense coupling and it did not last long. Lestrade achieved orgasm first, crying out Sherlock’s name. A few uneven thrusts later, Sherlock was joining his lover in bliss, his entire body shuddering in completion. As he collapsed exhausted next to Lestrade, Mycroft heard his brother say, “I love you, Greg.“ The government official felt his heart clench uncomfortably. Lestrade said, “I love you too, you bloody genius,” before grabbing the coverlet and pulling it over their naked bodies.

Mycroft slammed the laptop closed. 

He’d read this entire situation incorrectly. Lestrade would not be parted from Sherlock, not by any means. He had not been merely giving lip service to the idea that he was loyal to Mycroft’s brother. And Sherlock was not using Lestrade for access to more cases or for simple bodily pleasures. The two were in love. Even if they had said nothing, it was obvious in their interactions. Mycroft was a fool.

He gave himself a few moments to grieve what might have been before opening his computer. He closed the camera footage without a second glance. Mycroft immediately sent an email to a surveillance team with an order to remove the cameras in Lestrade’s flat, inconspicuously of course.

He then arranged to have cards sent to both Lestrade and his brother. He mulled over what to put on it the card for Lestrade before settling with: _“I apologize for my unwanted attentions. It will not happen again. We will not interact outside an official capacity should a situation emerge. I wish you all the best with my brother. - MH”_

To Sherlock, the note he sent said simply, _“Congratulations.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write because it all takes place in footage Mycroft is watching.
> 
> Side note: while in the first chapter Lestrade says he's fucking Sherlock, I had Sherlock top in this interaction because, well, I love top Sherlock! But let's assume it's a give & take relationship! :-)
> 
> I hope it's acceptable & there aren't any glaring mistakes!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
